5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

20 “See if this won’t change her attitude,” he said. , Kelly glanced at what the old man had written. Ten thousand dollars. “Suppose she gets the idea we’re try- ing to buy her off?” Starr grunted, put his checkbook away. “It’s immaterial to me what idea she gets,.so long as she signs a release. You might try to make the young lady understand I feel this is the limit of my responsibility—simply because her sis- ter did die here as the result of an acci- dent.” “And if the sister won’t take the dough?” Kelly asked. “That’s your problem,” the old man rasped. Ellen Mellani was still perched on the edge of her chair when Kelly returned to the office. She hadn’t even relaxed the tight lines around her mouth. Ordinar- ily, Kelly decided as he sat down across the desk from her, she would be a rather pert youngster. There was nothing vivid about her, as he imagined there had been about her sister. Nothing phony—like hennaed hair, too much makeup. She had mouse- colored hair, and on her it looked good. Her complexion blended with it. Her eyes were large and dark. There was only a trace of lipstick left on her mouth, which made it seem small and petulant indeed. Her figure was all right. She was wearing a modest little Palm Beach suit, not too new. He said, “Well, Ellen, I’ve talked to Mr. Starr. I told him you were here.” She started to leave her chair eagerly. He waved her down, continuing, “Mr. Starr can’t see you. But he asked me to tell you he’s very sorry about your sis- ter, about your not being informed right away.” He saw her lip start to curl, but went on. “Mr. Starr wants to do the right thing, Ellen. He realizes Doris died here on the premises and, therefore, he has a certain responsibility to you. He—he asked me to give you this.” Kelly slipped the check across the FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE glass top of the desk. She didn’t touch it. However, she read the amount, said almost exactly what he had expected. “What’s this? Hush money ?” Kelly moved his head slowly. “I know my boss doesn’t rate in your book, Miss Mellani. But, for all his faults, he’s no piker. If he were really trying to buy you, he wouldn’t start the bidding so low. Maybe ten grand sounds like money to you, but to Starr it’s petty cash.” “Is that all he thinks my sister is worth—petty cash?’ the girl said tartly. “Look, Ellen.” Kelly leaned his el- bows on the desk. “Ellen, frankly, he doesn’t have to give you anything. If you Wish, you can sue him and his insurance company. That’s your privilege, but I don’t think you’ll get a lot out of him. People fall down every day. When they’ve been drinking, that’s called con- tributory negligence. It’s hard to beat in court. I’d advise you to take his ten thousand and forget it. I realize it seems unfair, callous, to you—now—but it’s for the best.” IV Bien MELLANI made no move to touch the check. She stood up, tug- ging the coat of her suit smooth. Kelly realized he wasn’t going to get to his pitch for her to sign the release. She wasn’t having any. She said, “No, thank you, Mr. Wil- son,” started primly to the door of the office. Kelly said, “Wait a minute.” He fol- lowed her out, picking up the check as he passed. He put it in his pocket, walked with her through the hotel lobby. She had nothing else to say as she marched out of the air-conditioned hotel into the dry, hot blast from the desert. He kept in step with her, down the walk to the parking lot. She got into a more than slightly beat-up coupé. He crawled in beside her. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Trying to save a fat job,” he con- MICLOO (C(O) cS